This Island Earth.

Image result for Earth in space, pics.

 

This Island Earth.

 

Beauty is absorbed into the ether, like raw energy,

Each unto its own moment does flare and burn.

Each upon age does lose its attracting power.

Such vigor waning , hour upon hour.

She lives, she sees..her breath I breathe,

This Beauty ,

This island ; Earth.

 

This island Earth..

A patience shaped in an eon of years

Mountains, trees..east to west

Desert, seas..around generous girth..

All of life a painful birth..for this island Earth..

Now mute, that soil of ravaged earth,

Speaks a language I no more discern,

Where once I tilled with bare hand..

. . . and DID understand.

Mute ; the soil that gave ME birth,

Speak to me!..my mother silent,

This island ; Earth.

 

This island Earth…

Waiting, waiting, rain softly falls in stacatto’d drop

Rapping, tapping, upon patient crow’s shellacq’d back..

It’s gimlet eye to sprightly espy

From vantage perch on a tree’s barren bough..

Beauty’s last breath;  just another roadkill death.

But for the moment, just a moment..stay still!

For there is purity here in the kill,

While Beauty’s vacant eye adores the open sky..

Between the seconds of decision,

Before crow scavenges its share of flesh,

All is so perfectly plain..and calm,

On this island Earth.

 

On this island ; Earth,

What beast is man with his awful plan

Myself, called to hand deliver death

On Beauty’s last breath .

Lain’ before me in wracked injury,

Smashed bone and eye..body awry,

Limp crawling agony demands such a thing of me.

That I must kill what is yet fearful of death,

Save one wild eye and treasured breath,

That I must kill and kill and kill…what’s left..

What’s left to die on roadside breadth..

For this island ; Earth.

 

This Island Earth..

Lament, fair children, Lament fair child,

Lament for what you will have to abide.

Born to us a gift supreme, sight sublime,

Beauty’s hand to hand in mine,

But now I turn mine eyes askine,

Now in shame and guilt decline

To walk hand in hand with thine.

Whilst fair Beauty and her entourage

Lay dying in irreversible damage.

And ponder I, why ‘tis always encouraged,

That we pluck the prettiest flowers,

But leave the weeds to flourish..

On this island Earth.

 

 

 

4 thoughts on “This Island Earth.

  1. The question is when the gods created Earth did they make a mistake by creating Man? Are we only a weed too? When was that, what you called, “aspirational materialism” created? Was it there all the time?. Dormant for generations and now guiding our politicians and winning elections for them.

    Earth will survive a while longer after the human weed has disappeared from the face of the world. Our kind is out of balance with nature I can’t see that we can go back to Paradise. Now we are in the process of creating our own demise by developing AT and the Roboters will soon recognise that we are bad for Mother Earth.

    Cornflowers and Poppies were once beautiful weeds in the grain fields of Europe. Herbicides got rid of them.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. As a metaphor, we were once the brightest, most beautiful flower in the garden…then came posession…but many indigenous peoples held that in check…but something happened ….

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s